Chapter 1

They were broken up into five-person teams according to their

number in the attendance register. They were in the middle of basketball

class, during which the girls and boys took turns playing on the small gym's

court.

PE was in the afternoon when everyone was full from lunch. The

tracksuit-wearing high school students were all lazy and their movements

sluggish.

"The girls are lagging like crazy."

"I feel like I'm lagging, even though I'm a guy… Oh, her panty

lines…"

"Who? Where?"

The sound of the bouncing balls and the squeak of the slipping shoes

somehow seemed dull and sloppy as they echoed through the gym.

Clumped in a corner, the boys were sprawled out exactly like docile

cows. They were leaning against the wall or on their sides like old men on

vacation who knew they had no fear of being scolded. With content, halfopen eyes, they companionably watched the butts of the tracksuit-wearing

girls together.

In one corner of that group, the one with the odd pair of eyes that

gave off a dull glint said, "The hem on Taiga's tracksuit is frayed, isn't it…"

He was a hit man targeting the life of an enemy yakuza member by

hiding among cows at pasture in full-body cow-patterned spandex—or not.

He was just Takasu Ryuuji, and he was just as listless as everyone else.

His eyes, which were sharp completely independent of his own

volition, had originally been targeting a different kind of prey at the start of

the match. His target was the one in the group of ten girls whose

movements were exceptionally animated and whose ponytail bounced while

following the ball. He was staring at the sporty girl, Kushieda Minori.

Why, you may ask? He liked her.

As though pulled by a magnet, Ryuuji's eyes zipped along, following

that dazzling smile. Then he glanced to the side for just a moment and was

swept away, his gaze now glued to a different place. Why, you may ask? It

was because he couldn't help but let that bother him. It was just in his

nature.

"Oh ho, of course, you've got your eye somewhere else, Takasu.

Yeah, her hem, huh, huh."

Someone's elbow prodded his back in a friendly way.

"The Palmtop Tiger's ankles…they're great. What great taste, you big

pervert."

Someone else's finger poked at his side.

"No, it's not her ankles, it's her hem. Whoa, it definitely is fraying…"

His dangerously sharp, sanpaku pupils converged as though they were

plastered to a certain girl's feet. He continued to stare straight at the undone

and flopping cuffed hems as if, through sheer anger, he could set them

alight with beams from his eyes.

In actuality, there would be no beams. He was just vowing to himself

that he would mend them that weekend.

The owner of the aforementioned tracksuit, the Palmtop Tiger, Aisaka

Taiga, didn't notice that gaze. She remained completely unmotivated and

just ran with everyone else. She raised both her hands to guard the goal, but

because of her short height, she wasn't an obstruction; the ball arced over

her head to easily swish through the net.

Kihara Maya threw her arms up in the air in victory, her long chestnut

hair tied to the side to expose her slender neck. When she stooped to pull up

her socks, the boys caught a glimpse of her chest through her collar, and a

surreptitious whisper of joy slipped from the group.

"Ahhhghh! Taiga, why?!"

"It's not my fault!"

Minori, who was the only one serious about playing basketball, went

after the rolling ball as she made an appeal to her teammate, Taiga. The

athletic blood that flowed through that body inspired her even in the lazy

afternoon PE class.

"I'm the only one who's been getting points in! Taiga, if you put in

even a smidge of effort, you'd really be good at this! Now take back the

point they just took!"

"I got it, I got it…"

Taiga received the ball from Minori's fast throw and started dribbling,

at least for the time being. It didn't seem like she was putting much effort

into it, but she passed around the girls on the opposing team, quickly

stepping under their arms as they reached out to reclaim the ball. It was as

though that ball were stuck to those small hands.

A low vocalization of admiration passed through the recumbent group

of watching boys—Whoa.

"Of course the Palmtop Tiger would have unrivaled reflexes. She's

super, super good."

"Actually, isn't her tush small?"

"It is, it's tiny."

In the middle of the stirring group, Ryuuji alone was feeling uneasy

from his hunch that the hem Taiga was now stepping on would bring her

close to falling. Then he noticed that Minori was doing something cute

again. She clapped her hands together as she followed Taiga around, crying

"Good, good, Taiga-chan, do it like that!" Ryuuji's eyes glinted more

dangerously, tinged with the heat of his secret sentiments. His gaze

restlessly swerved left and right.

Eventually, Taiga was surrounded by a group of three.

"Hey, Dimhuahua!"

"Huh~?"

With a precise pass that bounced past the group's feet, Taiga sent the

ball to the one whose very strange nickname only she used—Kawashima

Ami.

"Whoa! It's Ami-chan, it's Ami-chan!"

"You're so cute, you angel! You're lovely, you model!"

"Ami-chan, you're cute even in your tracksuit! You're pretty!

Kyaah!"

The sprawled idiots suddenly got up and put their hands together for

the dazzling beauty, who seemed to sparkle. They were feverishly and

impatiently wriggling in anticipation of her play. This was to be expected.

Ami was a high school girl and also a pro-model. Her face was fairer and

more piquant than anyone's, and her magnificently large eyes glittered like

sparkling jewels. Even in her tracksuit, her slim, tall figure was like that of

a beautiful fairy that had appeared out of a dense forest.

Basically, anyone would recognize she was super stunning. Even

Ryuuji, who knew the many shortcomings of her personality,

unintentionally allowed his gaze to be stolen by her figure.

"No, no, stop, my nails are long right now, so I can't touch the ball.

They might break." Ami pouted her cherry-colored lips as she griped.

Then she put her left hand on her cheek, and as though she were

tossing something in the trash, threw the ball that had been passed to her

back with her right hand. Taiga failed to catch it, and it bounced off the top

of her head, flying up and into the hands of the opposing team.

Ow. As Taiga choked and held her head, Ami said something that

would terrify even the heavens.

"Soorry! No way, Aisaka-san! Did that impact just make you even

shorter?! Oh no, now you're so small… Oh, I guess you were always about

this short! Just kidding!"

Ha ha ha! Ami laughed, pretending to be cute.

"Nuahh! What are you doing, Ahmin, you fool!"

"Minori-chan, if we give up, the game will be over already, won't it?

♥"

"What are you saying?! Like I'd let it end like this!"

Pursuing Ami from behind, Minori gave Ami's slender neck a few

tickles. Ami writhed.

"What are you doing, you dullard?! You dumb Dimhuahua! You

ignoramus! You numbskull! You faux-oblivious Chihuahua! You're black

hearted! You've got a washed-up personality! You horrible lecher! I'll have

your head!"

"Ugh—ack!"

Without a pause, Taiga, who wasn't about to let this slide, punched

Ami in the throat. You can train all your other muscles but not your throat,

the action seemed to say. Ami sank to her knees.

"Hey, Minorin, pass it here, pass it!" With no time to spare, Taiga

took the pass from Minori where she was next to Ami.

"Hey, Dimhuahua, I'm passing it to you one more time!"

Taiga threw the ball, aiming for the top of Ami's head. Ami was still

collapsed, folded over, and coughing. Bop! The ball made an odd noise as it

hit Ami and curved through the air, frightening in its accuracy, once again

into the hands of the opposing team.

"Taigaaa?! What do you think you're doing?! Are you trying to make

me mad?!"

"No, Minorin, that was Dimhuahua's fault just now."

"Cough… No way. Seriously, Aisaka-san, I can't believe you…"

Ami eventually stood back up and stuck an angelic smile on her face,

so pure that it was obviously phony. Even Taiga took a step back out of

unease at that bloodcurdling act. Ami, still grinning, started to steadily close

the distance between them.

To the boys watching the terrifying display from afar, it was nothing

more than a scene from a lustful fantasy forming quicker than a storm cloud

in midsummer.

"She's got such a cute smile. Ami-chan's definitely an angel…"

"Oh, oh, the Palmtop tripped on her hem and fell over…"

"Ami-chan's going along with it and riding the Tiger. That's nice, I

want her to do that to me, too…"

"Riding on someone's back seems like it'd be nice for some

reason…"

"It'd look like this from below…"

Ryuuji was the only one who realized one of the usual bloodbaths

starting. Ami's long arms were trying to strangle Taiga, and Taiga's small

fingertips were trying to jab Ami's eyes. Their bellowing echoed throughout

the gym. The other girls, realizing now wasn't the time to be playing

basketball, were making a huge fuss, trying to pull the two apart, running

away, providing aid, or leaving them be.

During that scene from hell, Haruta suddenly spoke up.

"Hey, everyone," he said, "you all like Ami-chan, right? You think

she's cute, right? I think she is."

He pushed up his depressingly long hair. It was fading only at the

ends, possibly the vestiges of the bleached (and infamous) hairdo that he

had over the summer. Then with a serious look they normally never saw on

his face, he flung his arm passionately around Ryuuji's shoulder.

Gross, thought Ryuuji. While he threw off Haruta's hand, Ami

shrieked as though in the throes of death. He didn't know what was being

done to her, but she was on her back on the court.

However, that was there, and they were here. The group of boys

poked Haruta in the forehead as punishment.

"What are you going on about all of a sudden? That's conceited even

for you, Haruta."

"Don't disturb my sweet time with Ami-chan with your trivial

chitchat."

Even holding onto his now-reddening forehead, Haruta didn't back

down from his mysterious assertion. "Owww…but you think so, right?

Everyone's super in love with Ami-chan, right?"

"Of course, because Ami-chan's cute."

"But it's kind of infuriating when you say it, Haruta. Like, I don't

want you to say my precious Ami-chan's name like you're all close with

her. Of course Ami-chan's the cutest in the class—no, actually, in the

school."

"Oh, is that what we're talking about? Then I'm Team Palmtop Tiger.

I can't get enough of her ferocity."

"What? Then I like Kashii. Like, she seems like if you push her, she'd

fall right over. She seems like she'd be gentle and forgiving, and even

accept someone like me."

"If we're talking about that, then isn't Kihara super great? This stays

between us, but even though she acts like that, she's never been in a

relationship."

No way, really? I can't imagine that, thought Ryuuji. As the boys

worked themselves up, whispering to each other, he thought to himself, I

think Kushieda's cute. He thought her courage was cute as she planted

herself between Taiga and Ami to pull them apart. Even that strange face

she was making was cute as she soothed Taiga, who was trying to bite her,

by saying "See? Nothing to fear…"

As though he were collecting the rose-colored images running

through each of their minds, Haruta cast a sharp but suggestive glance at all

of them.

"That! Is! It! Uhh, ladies and zentlemen."

There ain't any ladies here and what are zentlemen? was the general

outcry. Haruta paid no attention to what they were saying.

"Well, everyone, don't you want to see how cute your crushes look

when they're not at school? For example, how about as a maid?! Hoo hoo!

Right, Takasu, you'll get on board, too, won't you?!"

Ryuuji felt the sweltering breath of his friend on his cheek. It reeked

of Frisk mints. Reflexively, he looked intently into Haruta's face.

"Haruta, are you okay? You didn't get into something weird during

the summer break? Like a weird drug, or a weird pyramid scheme, or a

cult… Oh, are you acting weird because you're holding a grudge over when

Kawashima and I left you behind to go to her villa…"

"I am holding a grudge! But this is a separate issue. I'm serious about

what I'm saying! Oh, I was too loud. All of you, listen to me and take this

seriously. Yuri-chan said she'd talk about the cultural festival and the class's

exhibition during the next long homeroom, right? That's me—me. I'm the

acting committee member."

"Were you?"

"I had no idea…"

"So? What about it?"

Haruta brushed aside the undesired reactions and secured a position at

the center of their huddle. "Come, come," he motioned and lowered his

voice further.

"So, if, for example, our class did a maid café for the cultural festival,

we could see all the girls dressed up as maids. If all the boys work together

and we have a majority vote, they can't complain. The girls aren't all on the

same page. How's that?"

Right… A low murmur broke out from the corner of the sweatysmelling gym.

"That's good planning, for Haruta."

"Seventeen years since he was born, and the light finally switched on

in his head."

"His parents must certainly be happy."

"Hee hee hee, you can say whatever you want. So then, you're all

okay with it? We're all completely unified in our maid café, so it's decided

—"

"Wait a second!"

The face that thrust itself before Haruta's eyes belonged to his sworn

friend Noto, who wore black glasses.

"I may be rocking the boat here, but I absolutely want to suggest a

Chinese café instead of a maid café. Imagine it, Kihara in a cheongsam…in

shiny fabric, and it'd be skin-tight around her body, like this—" He made a

sort of hourglass gesture. "—and you'd get a peek at her thigh. And she'd

be like, how do you like the tea?"

They pretty much all turned their eyes upward as they considered it.

That's something we could totally go for. Yeah yeah. Ryuuji wasn't that sold

on it, but he imagined his classmate exaggeratedly saying, "Nihao." His

eyes gleamed. Then he scowled immediately, as though he were

reconsidering everything.

"No, wait everyone…"

His bitter voice rose up as though to cut off the imaginations and

excitement of those around him.

"What, Takasu? Why're you looking at us with those eyes while

we're all getting pumped?"

"We can see right through you. What a dirty guy."

This a misunderstanding, he thought. He wasn't staring at the boys

with unrestrained thirst. He had just thought of something.

Kihara would look great in a cheongsam. Kashii, too. Of course, it'd

look good on Ami also, and it would even be super cute on Minori. Her hair

could be in wholesome, sexy buns.

But that one—Taiga—wouldn't she look pitiful in a cheongsam?

If she ended up being exposed to other's eyes in a form-fitting dress

with her flat body, her psychological complexes would definitely become

worse, and she'd end up with a neurosis so bad she wouldn't be able to keep

a meal down. He would be the one taking care of her. Then, after that was

over she'd definitely be ordering him around. It would be make pads this

and make soy milk that.

He needed to think of something that would fit Taiga better than a

cheongsam or that would be easier on him to deal with.

"What about that Lolita thing or whatever you call it? That frilly

stuff… Wouldn't that be great?"

The boys all fell into silence for a moment. Oh no, he thought, did I

go too far? He gulped.

"Takasu…are you a genius?!"

"This…is worthy of applause. Loli! Or Goth Loli! That's what I

want!"

Moderate applause surrounded him from inside the circle. The only

one looking bitter was Haruta.

"Wait, wait," he said. "We have to be unanimously on the same page,

so don't blurt out random stuff. We won't know what we're doing

anymore… Uhh, uhh, what was I saying again?"

He just doesn't have the mental capacity, everyone understood. They

turned sympathetic looks on the biggest idiot in their class.

That was when the true genius appeared.

"If we do a cosplay cafe, then couldn't we have everything?"

When all the boys turned around, the person they saw was none other

than the honor student Kitamura Yuusaku, who was pushing up his glinting,

silver-rimmed glasses with a finger. His even bangs were cut to a sharp

edge for the second semester, and his nerdy Maruo engine was firing on all

cylinders. The slightly concerning sunburn on his face and arms was the

result of enjoying his summer club activities and trips.

"Th-that's it! Let's do that! If we do a cosplay café, anything goes!

Good job, Kitamura. You don't have a bowl cut just for show~!"

Haruta merrily grasped Kitamura's back. Kitamura, not entirely

dissatisfied, endured the stickiness of Haruta's armpit. Of course, of course.

Everyone praised his genius, ruffled his black hair, and rubbed his

unexpectedly muscular arms.

Ryuuji, his close friend, had also joined everyone else to look upon

Kitamura with loving reverence. He was happily dreaming up an image in

his head. It was, of course, of Minori—Minori in a maid uniform, Minori in

a cheongsam, Minori in Lolita—any Minori turning a faint smile at him and

bashfully asking, "How does this look?"

It looks really good, he thought. It's great. It's absolutely great.

Kitamura stood in the center of the ring of excited boys, who jostled

and pawed at him in praise.

"All according to plan!" he said.

Tilting his head down so no one else could see, Kitamura's mouth

contorted into a suspicious smile. No one had noticed it yet. Hee hee hee, he

laughed soundlessly.

"Now we just have to wait for their move—ow!"

"Ow!"

"Ouch!"

That head, and the head next to it, and the head behind, and Ryuuji's

head were smacked in turn. At some point, the girls' basketball game had

finished. Kuro-muscle, the gym instructor, had an unpleasant look on his

face as he hit the boys with the attendance sheet. They hadn't come when

ordered, no matter how much time passed, and had continued to stick close

together.

"All of you, drink some protein. Drink some protein and get

yourselves up and moving."

"Ryuuji!" said Taiga. "Look at this, right here! Dimhuahua tore it!"

"Right…" said Ryuuji.

As they returned to the changing rooms through the breezeway,

Ryuuji saw the River Sanzu for a moment—or so he thought. Taiga had

jumped at his tracksuit from behind and used her whole weight to strangle

him by grabbing his collar. As he was on the verge of blacking out, a

roundhouse kick appeared before his shaking vision—or so he thought.

"Right here, it's torn! Dimhuahua did it!"

She was showing him her tracksuit hem. It had ripped and now

drooped tragically over her heel. In order to show it to Ryuuji, she had

brought her foot up as though to kick him from behind. As she did that, he

automatically grabbed her ankle.

"Aaah, this is terrible… I think I can mend it by putting fabric behind

it…a fabric backing…but the issue is with the elasticity… Guess I've got to

cut up one of Yasuko's granny shirts."

As he thought of his mother's beige undergarments, he nodded to

himself. He could put fabric backing on just one leg, but then there was the

fear it might become unbalanced with the extra weight. He could roll both

hems up and sew them, but he had qualms about making irreversible

changes. Even gym clothes were still part of the school uniform. The

furrows in his brow deepened.

Across from him, Taiga was losing her balance as Ryuuji held her

ankle.

"Uhh! Uhh!" she cried, flapping her arms like she was drowning, but

he didn't even notice. The inside of his head was dancing with shears,

needles, tracksuits, and granny shirts. This was Ryuuji's world. Take

caution all who enter, lest you be turned into a housewife.

"Hey, seriously," said Ami. "Don't say anything that would give

others the wrong idea. You stepped on it and fell down on your own and

tore it yourself, didn't you? Hey, Takasu-kun, you were watching, weren't

you? I didn't do anything, right?"

She had gone out of her way to rush up to them, probably so she

could get a word in. She was right in front of him and looking at him with

upturned eyes. She made her voice sound innocent, as though to appeal to

him.

Huh, Ryuuji thought as he finally returned to his senses. His sanpaku

eyes turned to Ami, and in that moment, disaster struck.

"Whoa, that was close," said Taiga. "I almost fell again!"

Whether it was intentional or coincidental, Taiga's hand grasped at

thin air as she righted herself, and…

"Whoa?!"

…Pulled the waist of Ami's tracksuit firmly down by seven

centimeters.

In front of Ryuuji's speechless eyes and those of several boys walking

by, the pure white skin of Ami's hip flashed at them like a lighthouse signal.

Taiga pretended to wipe sweat from her forehead, and Ami stared at her in a

stupor.

Finally, several seconds later, a scream erupted from Ami's mouth

like lava overflowing from a crater.

"GYAAAAaaaaaaa!"

"Uwah," said Taiga. "What a racket."

Several of the boys unexpectedly put their hands together, as if

offering a prayer to Taiga as she stuck her fingers in her ears. Ami's cheeks,

whether from rage or shame, turned crimson.

"Y-y-y-you, what are you doing?! That was scary!"

"Gah ha, that face. Dimhuahua, look in a mirror. Your true colors are

showing." Taiga's smile was heaped with scorn.

Ami swallowed her words with a "Guh!" A vein showing on her

temple, she seemed to gather her strength for a moment.

"Hmph!"

And then…

"Ha…ha ha ha ha ha ha!"

BAM! An angelic smile appeared on Ami's face. It looked like it had

been hammered into shape out of iron. She was going this far to play

innocent. She was like a museum-worthy piece of art—no, this performance

was already peak pageantry.

Without thinking, Ryuuji turned a reverent gaze on her. Before him,

Taiga huffed and became unnecessarily arrogant.

"Anyway," she said, "that's what happened. I'll bring it home, so

have it fixed by the weekend."

Having issued this order, she walked briskly away. But Ami, who was

filled with anger, walked even more briskly behind her with her iron-clad

smile still in place.

"Ha ha ha ha, wait, Aisaka-san. We haven't finished our talk, ha ha ha

ha ha!"

Feeling as though he had just watched a stand-up routine, Ryuuji

followed the two with his eyes as they disappeared into the girls' changing

room.

Then he noticed her.

Minori, who normally mediated between Ami and Taiga in times like

this, was watching them from some distance away—or really, she was

looking at the empty space where the two had been. She was stealthily

peering from a gap among the other girls in a corner of the hallway. Their

eyes accidentally met.

"Hey!"

He wasn't sure what she was thinking, but Minori put up one of her

hands and gave him a stilted, incredibly strenuous greeting, something to

the effect of Y-yo. He put up his hand in the same way, but Minori didn't

say anything more to him.

With her hand still up, she crab-walked along the wall of the small

hallway and kept her distance as she passed Ryuuji with a strangely curt

laugh. She scratched her head as though she didn't know what to do with

her raised hand.

"Ha ha ha. Well, then, um, what was it… See ya!"

Then she jogged away and jumped into the girls' changing room.

"Wh-what?"

Ryuuji tilted his head and let his raised sanpaku eyes glint.

Immediately behind him, Kitamura, who had watched the whole thing,

folded his arms together in wonder.

"She's been acting weird. Well, she wasn't that normal to begin with,

though."

Right, she was acting weird. Actually, Minori had been acting weird

ever since they started the new semester. Ryuuji pursed his lips. Whenever

Minori was with Taiga, or Ami, or anyone else, she was normal, but for

some reason she kept a strange distance whenever she approached him—or,

at least, that was what it felt like.

He'd felt like he had gotten closer to her during the summer trip, but

he might have been conveniently misunderstanding what had happened. It

always went well with the Minori in his imagination, but of course that

would be the case, wouldn't it? His imagination was just that, his

imagination.

Ryuuji stared at the girls' changing room door, reluctant to leave.

Then, realizing he was creeping out an unfamiliar underclassman who was

looking at him, he rushed into the boys' changing room.

***

"Uh, well then, I'll give it over to the cultural festival chair, I guess.

Haruta, I leave it to you."

"Yes."

Finishing up the necessary announcements during the long homeroom

period, Kitamura, the class representative, got off the teacher's podium and

gave the floor over to Haruta. They gave each other secret, meaningful

looks.

"Thanks," said Haruta

"Anks-thay," said Kitamura.

The moment they passed each other, they grinned.

Come to think of it, Haruta wasn't the only acting committee

member.

"Ami-chaaan, you can do it!"

"Aha ha, I'll try. ♥"

Haruta, who had arrived at the platform one step ahead, looked

unpleasantly delighted. Yes, the person who currently was being showered

in enchanted looks and cheers by the class as she made her graceful way to

the platform was Ami.

Ami, who transferred in May, was the only one who hadn't been part

of any department or committee. At the lone, random judgment of a certain

bachelorette who said, "It seems like it'd suit you," she was nominated as a

chair for the cultural festival acting committee. For Haruta, who had been

given the role after losing at roshambo, this was a turn of fortune that

threatened the already precarious jury-rigging holding his adolescent brain

together.

"It's my first time being a chairperson," said Ami. "I'm so nervous.

Let's do our best, Haruta-kun."

"Uhhh, yeah, let's do it."

Standing side by side at the podium, he looked giddy as he grinned.

Looking up at his friend's unseemly face, Ryuuji wryly smiled with

everyone else as they clapped. For the time being, they'd got everyone riled

up. There were glances exchanged in the classroom, but only among the

boys.

You got it?

Got it.

Ryuuji also nodded and mouthed an answer to the others' looks. This

homeroom only had one final stop, and that station's name was cosplay

café.

"What're you grinning for? Gross."

"Whoa!" said Ryuuji, practically jumping in his seat.

While he was distracted, Taiga had appeared at the edge of his desk.

She stooped; with her tiny body, she looked like she was nibbling at the

desk like a baby rat.

"Wh-what are you doing?" said Ryuuji. "We're in class right now."

Still curled up into a compact crouch, Taiga stared up at Ryuuji with

her large eyes narrowed.

"It's fine," she said. "Hurry up and bring that out."

She chewed on the thin joints of her fingers in frustration and

haughtily raised her chin.

"That?" said Ryuuji. "What?"

"My lunch. The one I didn't have enough time to eat."

Come to think of it, there was a Tupperware of fruit he had put

together with Taiga's bento box. "I'm definitely going to eat this later, so

you're responsible for keeping it good until then!" she had asserted.

"You're gonna eat it now?"

"Yeah. Right now. I've got time."

"You've got time…but we're in class right now…"

"Shut up. Hurry, you mongrel. Whiners get shiners. Big ones, too."

Ryuuji shuddered but received glances of worry from the other boys

around him—We're begging you, please don't make trouble in this

important moment. He felt a wordless pressure. There was no mistaking that

if Taiga found out about their plan, she would smash it to smithereens. She

would destroy anything related to it because that was the way of the

Palmtop Tiger.

No, even if she didn't find out about anything, just having this

troublemaker stick by him was enough to make him scared the plan would

come apart. That was what a troublemaker was. Her presence alone would

disrupt fate and throw everything out of kilter. In that case, he had to hurry

up and give her what she wanted. He needed to have her stand up and leave.

He searched the inside of his bag, pulled out a small Tupperware that

was wrapped in an old-fashioned furoshiki cloth he had taken a liking to

and mail ordered (though the pattern was modern, with freehanded

geometric black and white lines on a nearly black indigo), and offered it to

her. Taiga pursed her lips and uttered a long drawn-out "Wow." Her eyes

glittered.

"Hurry!"

She anxiously shook his shoulders even though he was already

holding it out in front of her eyes.

"I said hurry up and open it!"

"M-me?"

"That Tupperware is so hard to open that it always spills! Hurry up

and open it!"

You stubborn—but now wasn't the time to rebuke her. He took the

Tupperware and opened it. Inside was Taiga's favorite sliced mango. Taiga

gripped the teeny fork like a little kid and looked into the Tupperware,

eyeing the mango with a gleefully murderous fervor.

"Why are you eating here?!"

"So I don't have to go to the trouble of bringing the empty

Tupperware back to you."

At the teacher's platform, Haruta's face looked slick, like it had been

freshly oiled, probably because he was so excited. He looked down at the

class with both hands on the teacher's podium.

"Well then!" he said. "Let's get on with the agenda! The topic is what

our class, 2-C, is going to do for this year's cultural festival exhibition!"

At his side, Ami was smiling as though she were having fun, but she

was holding something that looked like a tube of hand cream. She was

massaging it into her nail beds. In short, it seemed she didn't have any

interest at all. Taiga, still at Ryuuji's desk, was preoccupied with trying to

stab at the pieces of mango that slipped and escaped from her fork. It

seemed she didn't intend to hear one word of what Haruta was saying.

Go eat at your own desk, thought Ryuuji. He tried pushing her away

by the shoulders, but she was as unmoving as a mountain.

It seemed that Ami and Taiga weren't the only ambivalent ones. The

other girls all generally were, too. There were some completely face down

on their desks as though they were sleeping, some opening magazines under

their desks, and some listening to music through the white ear buds they

had stuck into their ears even though they were facing the front. The ones

that were quiet were the better of them.

"Can't we just not do anything?"

"Haruta, you should avoid bringing attention to yourself."

There were a few jeering boorishly at Haruta as they listlessly sat.

Goth Loli would never look good on you, Ryuuji thought quietly to

himself. Even if they picked the cosplay café without incident, he couldn't

let them wear frills. Of course, a cheongsam or maid outfit wouldn't suit

them, either. They could be behind the scenes. No, wait, behind the scenes

of a café would be kitchen work. Could he leave the kitchen to them? That

wouldn't do. He shook his head furiously side to side.

The kitchen, the dishwashing, and everything needs to be properly

managed, he thought. By me.

He was back in Ryuuji world. The scene playing out in his head was

of the boisterous cultural festival, the chaos in the kitchen reaching its

limits, the raw sewage building up in the sink, the clouding stainless steel,

the dirty drain—You don't have to touch it! Don't do anything to it! Leave it

to me! I'll do all of it!

But this wasn't the time for him to be immersed in his wild fantasies.

When Ryuuji returned to his senses, Haruta was already finishing up.

"Uhh, does anyone have opinions?! N-no one?! If there isn't then—"

A cosplay café.

And then it happened.

It happened when the leader decided for himself he was about to go

write on the blackboard with chalk.

It happened when all of the boys passionately formed their hands into

fists.

It happened when, at the corner of Ryuuji's desk, Taiga said, Ahhh.

She wrinkled her nose as she opened her mouth wide (even closing her

eyes), trying to stuff her cheeks with the mango.

It happened when Ryuuji tried to thrust a tissue at her. Oh no, the fruit

juice is going to drip all over.

"Innnnn seeeeveeeennnteeeeennn yeeeeaaaarrrrssss…"

It was Nobunaga at Honnouji wrapped in fluttering flames—not. It

was Minori, who had elected to say something during the listless, long

homeroom. With a look of complete resolve, she turned intensely, as though

she had come from the seventh circle of hell, and slowly, slowly stood up.

"If you're taking opinions…"

She wriggled.

Her face turned scarlet, and she suddenly looked bashful. A

foreboding feeling went through the coalition of boys like the crackle of

lightning. Minori was a girl even more dangerous than the strong and

sinister Palmtop Tiger. That was because her job was the tamer of that

strongest and most sinister beast, Taiga, whom she puppeteered at will.

The beast tamer continued to wriggle and act bashful as she traced

loops on her desk.

"Well, um, it's not like I want to do this, but, uh, I actually don't like

stuff like this. Uhhh, see, I thought it would be great if everyone had fun. I

thought it would be really fun for everyone. So, even though I don't like it, I

thought I'd mention it. But I had a really great idea. It's something I've

been warming up to for a while. No, no, it's definitely not right for me, but I

thought that maybe everyone would like that. Right, that…a-a haunt…

ugh!"

The whole class wordlessly pulled away together as Minori's face

turned red and her nose dripped blood. No one made a sound. They were

scared. Instead of making a sound, Ami squirted her hand cream ten

centimeters out onto the teacher's desk.

Taiga, who had frozen with her mouth still open, let her mango fall

right from her fork and into Ryuuji's palm.

"Ah-agh…hee hee. I got a nosebleed… Oh no, don't misunderstand!

I'm not trying to say anything weird. I-I just…uh-uhm, it's a h-haunted…

haunted house."

Even more red liquid came from Minori's nose as she held a tissue up

to it. It was visible from every direction in the classroom. It seemed that no

matter how tightly she pressed the tissue, the blood came flowing from her

nose just like her laughter. Hee hee! Hee hee! Hee hoo! Just how excited

was she?

She was beyond help.

"Kushieda. Let's leave it at that. Your body won't hold up."

"What did ya say?"

In the classroom that had gone silent, as though frozen over, just one

person stood up. It was Kitamura.

His glasses glinting, he lowered his voice in order to keep her from

getting any more excited. He dropped his shoulders as he slowly closed on

Minori.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa…"

He approached her with his wide eyes as he mimicked the behavior of

a chicken. He opened his arms up, and as though to soothe her, flapped

them. It seemed Minori couldn't tear her eyes away from the odd sight. She

rubbed away her nosebleed, opened her eyes wide in wonder, and watched

intently as he approached.

"Whoa, whoa…there, there… Now, Kushieda, why don't you come

with the chicken man to the infirmary? Right? We've got to get that

nosebleed stopped, don't we? It's okay, the chicken man will make sure to

get your proposal into the agenda."

As though she had been hypnotized, Minori's eyes went unfocused.

"R-really?"

"Ahh…whoa, whoa… Now, come this way!"

Too fast for the eye to see, Kitamura's arms latched onto Minori's

shoulders as she stood dumbfounded. Anyone would have thought he had

successfully grabbed her—but, in the next moment, they were taught a

lesson.

"You thought you could win with speed?" she said. "You fool."

"Guh…guh guh?!"

"Kitamura-kun," she went on. "I saw through your whole hand. Don't

you dare underestimate Minorin. Now, shall we start the show?"

"K-Kushieda?!"

"None of you come any closer! Get up to any funny business, and this

one gets—"

The lesson they were taught, of course, was that the strongest, most

sinister, and craziest member of this class was Kushieda Minori herself.

"—a SMASH! Okay…?"

Minori pinned Kitamura firmly from behind, wearing a thin smile.

She held her pointer finger in the shape of a pistol and pushed it against the

seam of Kitamura's slacks, right between his butt cheeks. If she went

SMASH, it seemed like it would be really bad.

"Kushieda! Don't do anything stupid!" Haruta shouted from the top

of the podium,.

"Stop it, Haruta! Kushieda's for real! She means it for real, and her

grip strength is over 50kg!"

Kitamura, held hostage with his glasses half askew, tried to entreaty

Haruta not to come to his aid. Everyone in 2-C was altogether speechless

and had dumbfounded looks on their faces. Ryuuji and Taiga watched

openmouthed at the sudden development of the hostage situation in front of

their very eyes.

"De de de den!" Someone started humming the rhythm to the Bayside

Shakedown opening. The tension increased all the more, but unfortunately,

there was no hero in sight. Minori looked at the idiotic faces sitting in a

row, and her lip contorted wickedly.

"Well, of course, I don't want to destroy Kitamura-kun's lower half. I

just have one demand! That we do a haunted house for the cultural

festival!"

"Kuuh!" said Kitamura.

It might have been because of Minori shouting by his ear, or fear of

the destruction of his lower half, but Kitamura jolted. Haruta bit his lip,

unable to do anything. It was terrible. The classroom was in an eddy of

commotion.

"A-a haunted house…"

"Whoa, lame!"

"On top of being dull, it seems like suuuuuch a pain…"

"Actually, I'm not interested in that at all."

"Why would we do a haunted house when we're second years?"

"Kushieda's dangerous, super dangerous."

The things the girls said were quite right. Plus, the boys were united

and had already started up their train of desire, which was heading towards

the last stop of a cosplay café. They couldn't let the train derail in a time

like this.

"We can't give in to Kushieda's demands, no matter what."

"Yeah, I agree."

"You're our sacrifice, Kitamura."

"Farewell."

"Bye-bye, Maruo."

As everyone waved at him, tears flowed from Kitamura's eyes.

"How coldhearted you are," he said. "But! I, Kitamura Yuusaku, have

had the resolve to sacrifice myself for everyone from the moment you

entrusted me to be the class representative!"

"Oh?"

"Now, do it, Kushieda! Now, now, now! If you'll be satisfied by

stabbing at my vital point, then stab away as many times as you wish!"

Kitamura's resolve seemed real, but Minori smiled as though she had

more.

"That's good," she said. "Youth is such a beautiful thing, Kitamurakun. Now grit your teeth."

SNAP. She cracked her knuckles. She pulled back her elbow, and

Kitamura automatically shut his eyes. The class couldn't look right at him,

either. They averted their eyes to escape watching the merciless scene about

to occur.

"Ha… I'll say this: I'm not the only one losing something, Kushieda.

You'll also be extinguishing that flame of ambition in your heart!"

Kitamura vexingly, but also somehow triumphantly, told Minori.

It's a draw, was what he meant. That was right. If Minori finished

this, then she would also have to withdraw her strange proposal.

But they were fools. They were all such fools.

"Lose? What a strange thing to say. It seems that you misunderstood

something. I, Kushieda, won't stop at making only Kitamura-kun my

scapegoat…"

"Wh-what?!"

"Nooow then…I woooonder whooo the neeeext scaaapegooooat

should beeeeEEEEEE?!"

In the middle of that shriek, Minori's finger made its finishing stroke

and moved to prod Kitamura. Kitamura's head spun like a revolving

lantern. If she wouldn't stop at this, did it mean that his sacrifice had been

in vain?

Shwooooooomp…

The sound came a split second before her finger could bomb its

intended spot.

"Come oooooout, 'Shadow Warriors!'" Haruta shouted while his

hand danced and fluttered in midair. He pointed to the back of the

classroom.

Several boys stood up from the seats where he pointed.

"Th-the Shadow Warriors?!" said Minori. "Ahhhh!"

In a flash, Kitamura had been rescued. The boys lifted Minori up onto

their shoulders with a gallant "Heave ho!"

"Whaaat are you doing?! No, let go! I won't give up! I'll never give

up! If you kill me, Kushieda, then your hearts will be haunted houses

forever! Gaaaah!"

The army shouldered Minori and simply rushed out of the classroom.

Eventually, Minori's shrieks became distant, until they could no longer be

heard from the classroom. Forgive me, Ryuuji thought as he clenched his

shaking fist.

Forgive me, Kushieda. I couldn't support you. This is all for your

cosplay look.

"M-Minorin! You idiots! Where did you idiots take Minorin?!" Even

though she had done nothing but watch so far, Taiga slowly stood up.

"To the morgue!" Haruta said. "It's the most fitting place for those

who try to settle things with violence!"

"What did you say?!" Taiga barked at Haruta's blunt response but

then curled up and crouched down the next moment.

"R-Ryuuji! What's a morgue?!"

"It's where they keep corpses," said Ryuuji.

"Corpses… Then Minorin is already…!"

"Whoa!"

For some reason, right at that moment, Taiga tried to eat the piece of

mango she had left uneaten by stabbing it with the fork—where it was still

enshrined in Ryuuji's palm. Ryuuji put his head down on his desk as he held

his hand, which now had a hole in it. Taiga paid no mind to him as she

popped the mango into her mouth.

As she chewed she said, "Mwinorin isn't hewe anymoe." Just how

nervous was she?

Haruta, for his part, looked around the classroom now that Minori

was gone. Kitamura was safe, and they had dispensed of the nuisances.

Now he could finally return to the main subject.

"Well then, now that the troublemakers are gone, let's get back to it!

About the cultural festival class exhibition, I have an opinion I won't hide!

That's a cosplay—"

But.

"Lan…lan la la lan lan lan…lan…lan la la laaaa…"

"Wh-who dares sing?!"

Haruta's words were interrupted once again. Someone in a corner of

the classroom was holding their knees, humming to their own rhythm into

the empty void.

Her name was Spinster. No, her name was actually Koigakubo Yuri

(age 30), the homeroom teacher.

"I won't allow it…"

The spinster (age 30) slowly looked around her classroom of students.

The large cotton pants that hid her body were beige, the knit V-neck that hid

the thickness of her two arms was also beige, and the barely-visible

stockings that wrapped around her ankles were beige. This was because you

could only wear pink and blue and green into your twenties. Lace was also

off limits, as were frills. Ribbons, pleated skirts, and anything that showed

your knees were just as bad. It was difficult. This was Koigakubo Yuri's life

in her thirties.

Yes, her thirties—the spinster's eyes (aged 30) were suddenly distant.

She had plowed through her opportunities as a college student. She

looked down upon her friends who went out to play instead of going to

class. She took her teacher-training course seriously.

When she graduated, they were at the peak of the employment glacier

period. Around the time her classmates started to tell her they had printed

hundreds of resumes that were rejected and failed, and when they started

the year by failing to find employment, she was fatefully conquering the

mighty hurdle that was her teacher certification exam. Since then, she had

been serious about moving up in the world. She was entrusted with the role

of a homeroom teacher. She had a bit of a reputation with the students'

parents.

With what the salary was in this day and age, she'd been able to save

a lot more than if she had been a lousy office lady (she was even paying

more than 100,000 yen for rent). During the summer break, she had gone on

a trip to Hong Kong with her mother and had even bought a Hermès Garden

Party bag!

She had gotten used to her friends from her college days getting

married left and right. That was because they were, of course, part of the

populace from the glacier generation, and they had a plain college degree

that only got them into small and medium-sized companies. The old bubble

generation was blocking them from the top, and the new bubble generation

was pushing up at them from below. If you were a temp employee, you

would want something that was certain, of course. In her position as a

government employee, she knew well enough just how much someone

could save up. She wouldn't be flustered or jealous anymore because she

was an adult. No matter what they said, she was still thirty. Once she got

there, she just thought that this was what being thirty was about.

But.

There was one thing that bothered her.

It seemed her cousin, who was the same age and from the same

hometown, had a child going to junior high the next year. She had found out

the day before through a phone call with her mom. It wasn't really

something she'd wanted to know. That was just how they were out in the

countryside.

But, well, junior high though.

Even if she gave birth the next day, it would just mean that her child

wouldn't be in junior high until she was forty-three. And then, it wasn't like

she could get pregnant the next day or the day after that or the week after

that. …That's it, she thought, that's all…

"I won't allow it… I won't… I won't allow it at all."

The bachelorette (only 30!) took a step forward like a trainee soldier

in the snow in Hakkoda. She roamed through the class as if searching for

the future she couldn't see. She arrived at the top of the teacher's platform

where Haruta and Ami stood side by side.

"Y-Yuri-chan-sensei?" they said in unison.

"Move aside!"

She pushed Haruta and Ami out of her way. You insects! The (just

30!) bachelorette smacked her bachelorette fist against her bachelorette

podium. Then she turned a wily look on the class.

"I won't let you do anything fun!"

She breathed out the words a teacher would never be expected to say

one at a time.

"A café? No! Making and showing an independent film? Absolutely

not! Putting on an original play? Of course I won't allow that! Putting

together a live band? Ahhhhh! That's the number one thing you can't do

right now in Japan! Getting everyone excited about something like that

within a day is a delusion, after all! Even if you got people excited, you

can't do that before Christmas, anyway! As your homeroom teacher, I want

everyone to see how harsh reality is! The whole time I was at my girls' high

school, there wasn't aaanything fun to do. I won't let you… I'll never let

you do it! Do you know about the employment glacier?! It was super

difficult! Even if you applied to a hundred places, you wouldn't even get a

single response! Even if you finally got something, they'd usually tell you

after two or three months that they didn't actually want you full-time and

would withdraw the offer! You'd have your heart broken by all kinds of

rejections, and your personality would change, and even if you got a job,

the girl you were friends with since spring of your first year of college

would say, 'Your life seems fun. Oh, you bought a car. Hmm. Being a

government employee is so easy, how nice. What's your salary? Ohh. But

that money's coming from our taxes, isn't it? Hmph.' And then they'd

abandon you! Haaaa, haaaa, haaa, haaaa!"

I can't look, thought Ryuuji. Their homeroom teacher (30, crying) had

been reduced to a ghoul.

With a snap of Haruta's fingers, the shadow army appeared again.

"I wanted to become a government employee, so I worked hard for it!

What's wrong with thaaaaaat…"

They lifted their homeroom teacher over their shoulders and took her

to the morgue as well. Haruta was being serious today.

Then there was the sound of someone politely knocking at the door.

Kitamura, holding his intact butt, quickly stood up. Through the cracked

door, he exchanged a word or two with an ordinary-looking male student

from another class—someone who seemed like they were probably from

the student council.

"Thank you for the message! I wish you well on your way back!"

They watched as the student (was he skipping class?) saluted and ran

away. Then Kitamura barged shamelessly onto the teacher's platform.

"A telegram from the student council! The principle and vice

principle have bestowed a decision upon us!"

A telegram? Wasn't that just a human? His classmates tilted their

heads.

"This year, the cultural festival is a class battle! We'll be making the

class exhibit a popularity vote with a point score. On top of that, we'll add

points for the Miss Festival and Mister Festival pageants, and the class who

gets first place will get a luxurious prize! To make it easier to understand,

I'll make a diagram…"

In his over-excitement, Kitamura started to draw mysterious circles

and arrows that wriggled over the blackboard. "I can't read that!" the class

generally remarked.

"Uhh, er! Here are the prizes!"

Scratch, scratch, scratch! This time, the chalk he made dance across

the blackboard with heavy strokes left thick marks:

One new moisture-controlled air conditioner unit that was going to be

installed next year will be preferentially installed sometime within the

month.

One stand-in refrigerator to be installed in the class for a full year.

One of the bathroom's forbidden outlets will be powered back on.

One class to be exempt from common area cleaning duty rotation.

One set of coupons for Market Kanou.

There was rustling. The ones who were stirring had now been the

most fundamentally unmotivated to do the cultural festival or anything at

all: the girls who had been listlessly holding their faces in their hands.

"…Don't you want AC?"

Yeah, girls get parched.

"…Don't you want a refrigerator?"

Yeah, girls always eat chilled pudding and jelly and want to keep

their leftover tea and juice and stuff cold.

"…Don't you want to use the power in the bathrooms?"

Yeah, girls always want to curl their hair in the bathrooms.

"…Don't you want to skip the cleaning?"

Yeah, girls always hate cleaning the bathrooms.

"…Don't you want those coupons?"

That was Ryuuji. Kanou Market was a little out of the way from the

Takasu's house, but they had the best stuff around and kept a large variety

of products stocked. For that reason, they were just a little more expensive

than other places, so he wanted those coupons so badly, he could taste it. He

subconsciously licked his lips. Taiga, who was hoarding her mango directly

below him, looked up unpleasantly, but he didn't even notice.

"No way, no way, no way! I kind of want to win this!"

"I want to curl my hair! I definitely do!"

The girls were pretty much starting to stand up from excitement,

making a high-pitched commotion. This isn't good if we want things to go

smoothly, thought Ami. Without minding Haruta, she pulled him aside.

"Okaaay, okay okay, then let's have everyone state their opinions all

around? I'll write them on the board. Hey, Yuusaku, you're in the way.

Hurry up and get off."

Ami pushed Kitamura off the platform, and without hesitation, erased

all the words he had scrawled on the board. In their place, she wrote "Your

Opinions Please. ♥" She turned her angelic smile on the class. The pressure

was on from the stirring girls, but the one who gathered his café to make the

first move towards certain victory was Noto.

"Y-yeah, yeah, yeah! How about a cosplay café!"

Fiiiiiiiinally someone said it! Natural applause broke out from the

boys, Haruta included.

"Whaaaaaaaaaat?!"

Faster than Ami could write it on the board, the girls were booing on

a large scale.

"Isn't that super nerdy?! This is bad, this is bad! It! Is! Bad!"

"Come to think of it, we'll definitely overlap with another class."

"I'd neeeever want to do that!"

"What do the boys think they're going to cosplay?! A bottom feeder

or something?! Huh?!"

"Anyway, you're just going to make Ami-chan wear something super

risqué so you can just enjoy yourselves, aren't you?!"

"Perverts, perverts!"

"You perverts! Go extinct!"

Showered with a concentration of abusive fire, Noto was practically

close to tears.

"Right. We can just switch it so the boys do their best at the front and

the girls work the back. How about a host club or something?"

Pushing up her softly curled hair, Kashii Nanako spoke in a voice that

seemed like it could melt. The mole near her mouth had an allure unlike

that of a high school student. That's it. Maya also clapped her hands

together in support.

"As expected of Nanako. That's a great proposal! Isn't it super great?

A host club! A host club!"

Hmm, hmm, a host club, Ami wrote in nice penmanship on the

blackboard. This was bad. As they felt the conversation heading in a

different direction, the boys avoided each other's gazes. Then another

tribulation paid them a visit.

"Wouldn't you rather have a drag queen bar? That'd definitely be a

laugh."

What could you call this other than a tribulation?

"Ahh, now we're talking."

"No one would ever accept a host club unless everyone's handsome,

right?"

"We just have to go for making them laugh."

"If Takasu-kun cross-dressed, that would be super funny, right?"

"M-me…?"

Ryuuji lowered his face, quaking with astonishment. He heard Ami

sputter from the platform.

"Puh."

As ever, Taiga, who was clinging to his desk, said, "No one would be

laughing. They don't understand it at all… They don't understand the

power of Ryuuji's face. It's okay, Ryuuji, I won't ever let them do that." She

strangely and calmly seemed to be against the idea, though her words hurt

him even further.

But it didn't end there. One girl from the troop of fujoshi, who were

usually always in their own world of inside jokes and didn't participate in

the classroom much, looked strangely happy as she stood up.

"Instead of cross-dressing, how about a BL café? A butler top and a

domineering bottom who sometimes hate each other and sometimes love

each other. They'll be impolite to the customers…or something like that!

How about it!"

"Hm, mmhmm-what?! A love-hate relationship and being rude to

customers…how is that useful?!"

"Actually, what would you think about putting on a play like that

instead?!"

"Oh, that'd be fine. You're worthy of nomination as a lady in a

leading role! You're a master!"

"You cute, rotten girls, you make sure you keep a tight grip on

Granny!"

"Granny-sama, is this what they call BL theater?!"

"Nooo! Kyaaa! Who's the top going to be?! Do they have to speak

politely?! What about glasses?! What about white coats?!"

"We'd definitely need to have Granny-sama write the script!"

"Kyaaa! The draaaaft! Yahoo! auctions aren't allowed!"

Though the fujoshi were still pretty much unintelligible, the other

girls were applauding them.

"Shouldn't we just say it's decided?"

"This is completely perfect, isn't it?"

The girls were getting worse. Their piercing shrieks deafened

everyone, so there weren't any boys left who could say anything. Everyone

other than Kitamura had their ears covered, their eyes closed, and were on

individual trips to different universes.

Guh, Haruta gasped.

Using the desk to bear his weight as he stood, he bitterly raised his

voice.

"W-we won't get anywhere like this! Since it's come to this, we'll

take a decisive vote! Everyone, put down what you want to do on paper!

Once you write it, pass them all to the front! Toss them in this convenience

store bag!"

He was cutting off the likely flow towards defeat. It was a great

proposal. After shooing Taiga back to her seat, Ryuuji wrote cosplay café,

of course. All the other boys had definitely written it, too. No matter how

motivated the girls were, they were just a disorderly gathering, after all.

They weren't a threat to the solid monolith that was the boys.

Or they shouldn't have been.

"All right!" said Haruta. "Has everyone written what they want?!

Shake! And! Lottery! It's sudden death! When we chose the competition

between Ami-chan and Tiger in our class, we did it like this so it was

impartial, too! Whether you're smiling or crying, don't complain! This is

it!"

"Okay!" the girls replied.

A lottery?

Sudden death?

This is it?

Wait…

Haruta smiled before the eyes of the boys, who had their hands

stretched out in protest and were half standing. He pulled out one piece of

paper.

"I'm announcing it! For this year's cultural festival, our class 2-C's

exhibition is pro—huhh?!"

The paper fluttered down and dropped from Haruta's hand. Ami

quickly grabbed it from beside him.

"Uhhh, what? What? What is this?! A p-pro-wrestling show, and in

parentheses it says, 'no kayfabe'… What is this?! Who wrote this?!"

"Don't screw with me! What's wrong with all of you?! It's not a

cosplay café?!"

Ryuuji suddenly, composedly admonished Haruta, who was yelling

beside Ami.

"Actually," he said, "why didn't you decide by majority rules…?"

They were in silence for a good five seconds.

"Huh?!" said Haruta.

The boys all put their heads on their desks and sobbed. What do you

mean, huh? Why is Haruta so stupid? He really must have bribed his way

into this school…

In the back of the classroom, which had two entrances, someone was

snickering at the pandemonium.

"You thought you could throw out your homeroom teacher…

Remember this… You remember this…"

She had returned to the earthly plane on her own power. Her vote was

meant to rile them up. Nonchalant and covered in dust, the one who had

spectacularly won the sudden death lottery through the power of sheer luck

was the spinster (age 30).

Next to her was a dusty body that had also escaped the morgue. It had

used up all its strength right before the vote and was slumped over, clinging

to the spinster's legs. It was Minori. In her hand was a note that she hadn't

been able to cast in the ballot. It had haunted house written on it.

Well, in situations like this, what was one to do?

"Well, setting that aside!"

Haruta casually stole the paper from Ami's hand, crumpled it, and

threw it somewhere. No one reproached him. Even if they had to do it after

school, they could redo everything according to plan without their

homeroom teacher.

Now now, we've forgotten it all, said Haruta's body language as he

once again leaned over the teacher's desk. Beside the chairperson, Ami

adjusted her bangs, and her angelic smile floated back on her face.

"Uhh," said Haruta, "we're starting the long homeroom! The topic is

the cultural festival! So, come to think of it, right, right, we don't have

much time left, but don't we have to pick a girl to be our Miss Festival

pageant entry?"

"What about the Mister Festival?" someone asked.

"The guidelines for that will be announced the day of the cultural

festival. Well actually, for our class, we don't really have to choose or

anything. Right, Ami-chan?"

Ami's eyes opened so wide they seemed about to drop out of their

sockets.

"Huh? Me? H-huh, what, what, whaaat? No way, I have no idea what

you're talking about!"

"You're doing that again! You know just as well! If you're our

candidate, Ami-chan, it's the same as us winning the Miss Festival!"

This time around, there was no contestation among the class. They all

nodded in agreement with Haruta's words, thinking the same thing: If Ami

represents the class as Miss Festival, it's a sure thing.

"Whaaat?! No way, no, no, no, not happening!"

Internally, the real Ami was laughing. If I were representing the class,

she thought, we would have been guaranteed victory even before

prerecorded history, gah ha ha! But Ami's goody-two-shoes exterior

hunched her back like a shrimp and waved both of her hands. "No, no." She

retreated until her butt hit the blackboard.

"I'm really taken aback by everyone's feelings, and I'm really, really

happy, but actually, I'm going to be emceeing the Miss Festival pageant!

Sorry everyone, even though you were nominating little old me!"

What?! The classroom shook with voices of despair as Ami's

Chihuahua eyes stayed giddy, taking on a haughty glitter.

"Really?!" said Haruta. "I forgot, actually. I don't remember that at

all, but if that's how it is…what should we do? Actually, I feel kind of sad

for her…"

His gaze went to the dead spinster (30, close to burning out…) at the

back of the classroom. They could have their homeroom teacher as the class

representative for Miss Festival. Everyone started agreeing that it could

work as a joke, but Ami intercepted that thought.

"Hmmm. That doesn't seem like it's allowed, Haruta-kun. According

to the guidelines, jokes aren't allowed this year. In other words, boys aren't

allowed, instructors aren't allowed, people who aren't in the class—cartoon

characters, students' family members, and so on aren't allowed. They said

we have to choose one representative from the girls in the class."

As though the earlier rise in spirits had never happened, the secondyear class C fell into silence. All of them were flummoxed.

They had to choose just one girl—the cutest girl from the class.

And the cutest girl couldn't be Ami, the established pro-model.

It stood to reason they would be perplexed. If anything, the

seventeen-year-olds were part of the Yutori education generation. Not

"there can be only one", but rather, "everyone." They had been taught from

birth to believe everyone was beautiful and everyone was great. For the

most part, no one had ever asked them to rank people by how cute their

faces were.

"I think Aisaka-san would be great."

"Whaat?!"

The one who'd voiced this unexpected opinion was Ami, looking

down on Taiga spitefully from the teacher's platform. She narrowed her

eyes and laughed—nha ha—completely ignoring the din of the class. Taiga,

who had been on the verge of dozing off, jumped up and glared at Ami as

though trying to shoot her down with her gaze. Ami easily evaded her.

"See," she said, "because Aisaka-san is super teeny-tiny and adorable.

She's popular enough here to have her own cute nickname—I mean,

Palmtop Tiger? Don't you think she'd get a lot of votes~? Wouldn't she? ♥"

"I don't need any votes!" said Taiga. "What're you saying, you super

dim Dimhuahua?! Why have I got to do something like that?!"

Taiga's mouth was gleaming from the shiny juice of the mango. She

practically kicked her seat away as she stood up.

"Ohh…" said a classmate, "but I think that's a good idea, too."

"The Tiger really is famous…"

"The Tiger might be the only one in the class who could actually get

votes."

"Sh-shut uuup!" Taiga barked, her voice suddenly larger than anyone

thought her body could hold. The class hesitated and grew quiet for a

moment.

Ami smiled all the more.

"What?" she said. "You. Can't. Do. That. Tiger-chan. As someone

who's a member of the class, you have to go along with events like this and

participate. ♥"

She even gave Taiga an obvious, nearly audible wink—Dink, it

seemed to say—as she added fuel to the fire.

"Dimhuahua, you… If you don't get what I'm telling you, fine! I'll

finish this with my own two hands, and then I'll wipe the cultural festival

and the school—all of it—from existence!"

Taiga easily hoisted her desk above her head so all of the things

inside of it clattered down to the ground. She was poised to hurl it clear

over the teacher's platform. The people in the desk's path towards Ami

screamed as they scrambled away: Kyaah kyaah!

"Well, well, keep it under control!" said Kitamura. "Aisaka, you

might actually win, though. I thought you were a good choice, too."

"Ahh…"

As Kitamura's voice came to her ear, Taiga wilted. The corner of the

desk she was holding fell on the crown of her head with a CLUNK! Due to

the natural consequences of her actions, she collapsed to her knees.

"T-Taiga?! Are you okay?!"

Flustered, Ryuuji went to support the desk, but he was already too

late.

"…Who were you again?"

That matchless klutz, Aisaka Taiga, had been robbed of every single

one of her memories. Whoa, thought Ryuuji, taken aback.

"Then we've decided on Aisaka-san!" As everyone took shelter in a

corner of the classroom, Ami's voice rose behind Ryuuji, and a wave of

applause followed suit.

Incidentally, the spinster (working hard to make it to 31) had already

vanished from the classroom.

Unnoticed, she had written up the formal plan for the exhibition setup

and gone back to the staff room to present it. Of course, the contents of the

plan were "Pro-wrestling show (no kayfabe)." She had even stamped it with

her homeroom teacher seal.

Haruta's shallow slyness in trying to table the exhibition plan was no

match for a spinster with eight years of experience working as a teacher and

twelve years of living alone.